There Is Nothing I'd Rather Do
by Heart Torn Out
Summary: It's raining. And Mycroft and Greg are having a lie-in. Absolute fluff. Mystrade, too. If you didn't know. ;


**SO. I wrote this bored in class. Just a Mystrade ficlet/drabble kind of thing. Enjoy.**

**Title taken from Mirah's 100 Knives**

**Current song: What Do You Go Home To? by Explosions In The Sky**

**Current thought: BATHROOM. I need to use one. Peace out babes *runs***

* * *

><p><strong>There Is Nothing I'd Rather Do<strong>

It's raining.

The wet drops pitter-pattered against the window and the roof. It's dark and cloudy and damp outside. Inside a house on the outskirts of the city though, it's quiet and warm. And upstairs, in a cozy bedroom, to people lie in bed, one asleep while the other watches. Most mornings find the watcher like this, still and comfortable, the sleeper cuddled close to escape the cold. The sleeper wakes though (they always do) and stares at the watcher groggily.

"You're awake already?" Greg mumbled, blinking sleepily. He gives a yawn.

Mycroft runs his fingers through Greg's hair as the other man moves closer to him, wrapping his arms around Mycroft's waist and pillowing his head on Mycroft's chest.

"Yes," Mycroft answers. and then he stops and listens to the rain in silence. He sighs in content, holding a sleepy Greg closer to him as he does. "It's raining," he says.

"Thank God _I_ don't have to work today," Greg mumbles into the cotton of Mycroft's sleeping shirt. "It'd be a sodding pain in the arse to go out in the rain and look at dead people or… I don't know, chase some wanker down." He shifts so that he can look at Mycroft. "You going in today?"

Mycroft strokes a hand down Greg's back and shakes his head. "No. I figured I'd stick around today." There's a smirk on his face as he presses a kiss to Greg's forehead.

Greg presses even closer, his shirt riding up a bit. "Oh?" he says slyly. "This has nothing to do with me being home, does it?"

Mycroft gives a deep chuckle, the noise reverberating in his chest and vibrating against Greg's. Greg loves it when Mycroft laughs like this, so free and uninhibited by the strains of political or governmental work. He looks years younger when he does as well, not that Greg cares much about that aspect. He himself has a head full of silver hair. What's a few wrinkles compared to that?

"What do _you_ want to do today?" Mycroft asks him, shifting on the bed to make them more comfortable.

"We could just have a lie-in," Greg says hopefully. He sits up a bit, dragging Mycroft's thinner frame with him so he can keep using it as a pillow. "And then we could sit about the house all day, doing as we please." Greg stops and looks to Mycroft, and then says, "Why? What did you have in mind?"

Mycroft shrugs innocently. "I thought we'd go out for a bit in the rain."

Greg thinks and comes up with, "You have this odd obsession with the rain. You know that, right?"

Mycroft gives a small smile. "The best things happen in the rain, one can argue. After all, I met _you_ in the rain." He strokes a palm down Greg's cheek, rubbing his jaw.

"You are _too_ sentimental, _Mr. Holmes_," Greg acknowledges as he leans into the touch.

"And you know you love it,anyway, _Mr. Holmes_," Mycroft answers with a soft smile instead.

They had made it official only two years ago. It still feels so new.

"Yeah," Greg says, his voice softening. "Yeah I do." He tangles their hands, their rings clinking together.

When their eyes meet, Greg is smiling shyly and so is Mycroft, and they're both sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling around their waists. Greg leans over the small space between them like he's forgotten something and kisses Mycroft gently on the mouth.

"Good morning," he says against his husbands lips.

Mycroft leans back a bit and says, "And good morning to you as well."

They sit there for a minute before Greg sighs and then stretches, his shirt riding up again, exposing his toned stomach and belly-button. Mycroft pokes his stomach, in a playful mood, Greg letting out a huff of laughter as he ducks down to protect himself. He saves himself by attacking Mycroft instead and soon, they are a tangle of sheets and limbs.

They end up in each other's arms, Mycroft under, Greg on top, his arms braced against the pillows on either side of Mycroft's head. Mycroft's hands bracket Greg's ribs and he stills for a minute to just listen, listen to his partner breathing, his heart thundering in his rib-cage.

"I change my mind," Mycroft says a bit breathlessly, staring up into Greg's dark, warm eyes. "We could just have a disgustingly long lie-in." He runs a hand through Greg's mussed hair, the grey strands sticking up every which way. Outside, the rain splatters sharply against the ground, a biting wind whistling through it.

"It does sound awfully nasty out there," Greg concedes, lowering himself down and to the side of Mycroft. He's a bit tired now, from their rough playing. He's also a bit turned on, but that can wait until later in the afternoon, after they've eaten and taken care of themselves.

Greg presses up to Mycroft again, a leg haphazardly wedged between the other man's two, an arm over Mycroft's waist, his head tucked under the man's chin. Mycroft's arms lower around him, holding him tight for one moment before he relaxes into the bed.

"So you really want to spend all day in the sack with me?" Greg asks, just to be sure, even though he knows the answer. Sometimes though, it's just nice to hear it.

"There is nothing I would rather do," Mycroft says rather quietly against Greg's hair, placing a kiss there. Greg rolls closer to him.

And outside, the rain continues to fall.

**~FIN~**

* * *

><p><strong>So. Questions, comments, concerns for the sanity I no longer have?<strong>

**UNLESS YOU'VE FOUND IT?**

**If you have, I give you permission to keep it. I have no desire to have it back. **

**REVIEWS ARE WELCOME ( and preferred) **

**PEACE OUT LOVES**


End file.
